


Boxes

by phantisma



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-29
Updated: 2007-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up of sorts to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/503252">What Lex Lost (And Never Knew)</a>  Clark comes to Oliver, seeking a release he can’t get on his own after he finds out about Lex and Lana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxes

The box was on his desk when he came in from his breakfast meeting. He couldn’t deny the flurry of excitement that made his stomach tighten and his cock stir. It had been a few weeks since that first time...a few weeks and Oliver was beginning to think that maybe Clark had thought better of their little game.

He slipped his suit jacket off and circled around his desk, watching the box as if expecting it to move on its own. There’s a note he can see now. Scribbled in Clark’s hand. “Tonight.”

Oliver nods to the idea, unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and reaches for the phone. “Cancel my afternoon...and send a dozen roses to Ms. Lane with my apologies...”

He reached down and flipped open the lead lined box, the cold warm glow of the kryptonite spilling over his fingers. He’d taken it farther than he’d intended to that first time...and yet not nearly far enough. He knew Clark’s reasons, he’d seen the announcement. Tonight wouldn’t be as easy on the boy. Tonight Oliver would take him past that wall, over that edge.

Tonight Oliver would bring Clark Kent to the edge of himself, burn away the self-hatred, the fury he held so tightly wound inside of him, strip off the pain and doubt...tonight Oliver would take a farm boy into his bed, and raise him up a warrior.

 

He sets the stage carefully...a balance between comfort and power. It isn’t romantic, because this isn’t romance. The candles soften the room, but don’t soften him. Even his clothing is a balance. Leather pants, black, sleek, tight. Feet bare. Silk shirt, button down, but unbuttoned, the same green as the rock.

The box is open on his desk. He knows when Clark has arrived. There’s the breeze, the groan and Oliver turns slowly, deliberately. The door is open and Clark is there, in front of him, his face contorted in pain. He hadn’t expected Oliver to be waiting; he can see it in his pretty blue eyes.

Oliver reaches for the remote with controlled movements, slow, easy. His eyes never leave Clark’s as the doors and windows rotate closed and locks secure. The world could disappear just that easily. He needs Clark to know that, to feel it. He waits until the boy’s knees start to buckle, then closes the box.

“Good evening Clark.” He stands slowly, smiling when Clark doesn’t respond. There’s something entirely delicious about Clark Kent on his knees. There’s no give and take this time, no adjustment. Oliver closes the distance between them and tilts Clark’s head back with two fingers under his chin.

He regards him silently for a few minutes, then kisses him, slow…deliberate, nearly tender…waiting as the walls fall slowly and Clark relaxes. “I was beginning to wonder whether you had changed your mind about this. It’s been a long time.”

Clark drops his gaze and nods once, tightly. “I…had to think about it.”

“And what is it that you thought?” Oliver lets go of him and paces away, back around the desk, picking up the box to play with.

This was the hard part for a person like Clark, making the admission. Oliver looks at him, watches the struggle. “I wasn’t sure I did want it….but…”

“But?”

Clark looks up, then away, those blue eyes glittering with emotion. “But I do.”

“Do what, Clark?”

He swallows and Oliver flicks open the box. Clark’s body twitches and he lowers his head. “W-want this. I want this.”

Oliver comes back to him, the sliver of Kryptonite in his fingers, playing it over his knuckles. “You want me to hurt you?” His voice is casual, light. Clark’s face is screwed up in pain as Oliver brings the stone close enough to cast an eerie green glow over Clark’s cheek. “You want me to punish you? Kiss you? Fuck you?”

Clark’s nod is miserable, even as his arms circle his stomach and he starts to double over. Oliver drops the stone back into its box and closes the lid, watching Clark sag forward. “Tell me Clark. Tell me what it is you want.”

It takes a minute…two…as Clark gasps and pulls himself upright again, arms braced on his thighs. “I want what you promised me.” His eyes lift up, meeting Oliver’s full on for the first time since walking in. “I want you to make it better…I want you to…do all of that…and more…”

Oliver smiles. “They say confession is good for the soul, Clark. Consider it a first step. A step that will be important in everything we do together. Honesty earns you what you desire. Let’s begin by losing the clothes.”

Clark is back to hesitant, pulling the red t-shirt up and off, folding it and setting it on the floor beside him. His shoes came next, and he was forced to stand to remove his jeans.

“All of it, Clark. I want to see you.”

Clark swallows nervously and half turns away to tug on the tight white underwear, folding them neatly too and adding them to the pile. He’s nervous now, not sure what to do with his hands. Oliver watches him cross and uncross them, then they slide down his sides where his hands fist up, then release.

“Come over here.” Oliver indicates the space in front of his desk. Clark comes and stands facing Oliver. “Nice. Hold out your arms. Close your eyes.”

Oliver brings the box as he approaches, circles slowly, touching randomly…left shoulder, right cheek, right hip, left ass cheek. He pauses there. “This is where I hit you. Where I spanked you.”

Clark wobbles a little with the word and Oliver smiles. His hand caresses the spot, soft, warm….then it’s gone and in its place is the cold press of the Kryptonite. “You came when I had you over my knee, Clark. While I was spanking you.”

There’s silence as Oliver moves the stone over the younger man’s skin, up to the back of his neck. Clark’s head is bowed forward. “Knees, Clark.”

Oliver’s hand and the stone come away as he goes to his knees. “Hands behind your head, and spread your knees. Oliver dropped the stone in the box and closed it. He didn’t want to overuse it…in fact, he only intended to use it when it came time for actual pain…this was just to get the walls down and the boy ready.

He comes around in front of Clark as he finishes spreading his legs. His cock is half hard, thick and hanging between his legs. Oliver’s has already moved past half and can feel his cock straining against the leather of his pants.

Clark’s hands move slowly behind his head, his breathing careful and slow. “Tell me how you feel right now Clark.” Oliver says with his back to Clark, toying with the box on the desk.

Clark clears his throat and adjusts his position, still struggling for some measure of control. Oliver flicks the box open and the squirming stops. “I—exposed.”

“Good.” Oliver turned back around, raking his eyes over Clark. “What else?”

“Nervous…cold…vulnerable.”

“Why did you come tonight?”

Clark swallows again. “I…I want to…feel…something.”

“What?”

He shakes his head now, his eyes closing. “Anything….Anything that isn’t this…numb…sinking feeling…”

Oliver nods and crosses to him, letting one hand caress his face as a reward for his honesty. His thumb brushes across Clark’s dry lips and feels his tongue tentative and tender. “I have one more question Clark. It is very important though, and it requires you to be absolutely certain of your answer. I’m going to give you what you need…help you feel…but you need to think about what I’m going to ask you…” He tilts that face up so he can see those eyes. “Do you trust me, Clark? Not just with this…with your life? Can you put yourself wholly in my hands and let go of everything? Because if we’re to do this, it will be what I require.”

“I—I…”

Oliver stops him. “Don’t answer immediately. I’m going into the bedroom to prepare. I want you to wait here. Think about it. When you are ready you may come to me.” Oliver kisses him, gently, chastely…then turns on his heel and heads for the bedroom, leaving the boy kneeling naked in his office.

There isn’t much to prepare, he’s been ready for this most of the afternoon. Ready to take Clark beyond what he thinks he’s here for…ready to show him a world beyond anything he’s ever dreamed possible.

He does set the box by the bed. Opens the drawer and removes a new box, a bigger box, and he sets it on the corner of the bed nearest the door, open. On a black velvet interior lies the tool he will use to get Clark to the next level.

He feels him come, stands with his back to the door a moment longer. He can almost imagine the wide eyed wonder as Clark’s eyes fall on the restraints in the box. “I had them made especially for us, Clark. There is just enough Kryptonite in them to keep your powers at bay…without hurting you or causing permanent damage. Once you put them on, you will be mortal…for as long as you wear them.”

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t look. “If you are ready to trust me, come kneel beside me and put them on.” He holds his breath. Listens to Clark’s ragged breathing…to his struggle between what he knows is good and right and what he wants…what he needs. Oliver is so attuned to that he almost misses the release, the exhale of pent up air, the submission as he slides to his knees beside Oliver. His face brushes Oliver’s leg and his hand involuntarily goes to the side of Clark’s head, easing the tension there in his jaw.

“Easy…we can go slowly.” Oliver finds himself saying. Clark’s hands are shaking, but they reach into the box and lift the restraints.

“I…I’m afraid.” Clark admits, holding the vaguely green metal.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of.” Oliver follows the line of Clark’s jaw with long fingers, down to his chin, then back.

“Of this…of wanting this…I—I’m not used to being…vulnerable.”

“Not physically. I get that.” Oliver steps away and sits on the bed, easing the power dynamic momentarily. “You’ve got skin that nothing can penetrate…you’ve got so much power…and the burden of that…you don’t even realize how overwhelming it is…not yet.”

Oliver let’s his hand caress the lines on Clark’s face. “You feel it though…and it wears you down.” He leans forward, kissing over his forehead and then down his nose to his lips. Clark’s mouth opens slowly, inviting him to more. Oliver hesitates a second, then takes what he’s offering, claims him, one hand snaking behind his head and pulling him in closer. “You say the word and it stops, Clark. Trust me…I know what it is you need…what you crave…Let me give it to you.”

Oliver stands then, walks away to the dresser, where he’s laid out the rest of his plans…to the bottle of lube, the leather paddle, the vibrating plug that he’d bought just for this occasion. There’s a soft click, and he knows that when he looks, Clark will be wearing the thin metal cuffs…that his face will be turned to the floor as he fights his own battle inside…submission for a man like Clark Kent would never be a simple thing.

Oliver breathes in slowly, runs a hand over his assembled implements. “On the bed, facing the wall, knees touching the pillows.” He listens to the soft rustle of Clark’s skin against the bedspread, the creak of springs. “Above your head is a hook. The center ring of the cuffs goes there.”

He can feel the hesitation…because Clark expects him to take this from him, and Oliver won’t take anything that isn’t given freely. He gives it a moment and when he doesn’t hear any more movement, he turns, a long piece of black silk in his hands. He walks onto the bed, watching Clark try to see him from his newly powerless position. Without a word, he settles the silk over Clark’s eyes, tying it quickly and securely behind his head.

Oliver takes a moment to further arrange Clark to his liking, positioning his knees and ankles, running his hands down Clark’s arms. “You are so beautiful, Clark…your body is perfect…and on display for me…”

Clark shivers and Oliver runs his hand down his spine, down to his ass, pressing a finger in without warning. Clark’s tight and hot and it only makes Oliver harder in his pants.

“I’m not going to ask you to control your orgasm, Clark. I’m not going to make you ask permission…not tonight. But I want you to tell me when…I want you to tell me you’re going to come. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” Clark clears his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Oliver smiles and pets his head. “Good boy. Are you hard Clark?”

Clark’s head bobs. “Yes…”

“Good.” Oliver gets up from the bed and brings the tray from the dresser to within reach. “Tonight we’re going to work on what you need to know about yourself. I’m going to introduce you to pleasure you’ve never known…and then, I’m going to fuck you Clark.”

Clark twitches, but holds his tongue. Oliver sits beside him and lubes up a couple of fingers. “How does it feel Clark? Right now…naked and on display for me?”

“It’s….dirty…like it’s wrong…”

“Do you think you’re dirty, Clark?”

Clark’s head drops forward, and Oliver doesn’t need much more answer. Without warning, he pushes his two lubed fingers into Clark, and the boy jumps. Oliver doesn’t speak as he starts moving them around, slowly working Clark open. “Is this dirty, Clark?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no.” Clark squeezes muscles around him and Oliver presses in on the hot spot in response. The younger man’s body shivers.

“Tell me why.”

Clark is starting to breathe heavily, his shoulders heaving. “Is it because you like it, Clark?”

Oliver pets his free hand down Clark’s back, soothing him. “Has anyone ever touched you where I’m touching you, Clark.”

He only shakes his head in response as Oliver thrums his fingers over his prostate repeatedly. “Not even Lana?”

The name has the desired effect, Clark shudders and Oliver withdraws his fingers, rising up so that the open edges of his shirt brush over Clark’s heated skin. “She doesn’t deserve you, Clark.” Oliver whispers it in his ear. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

Clark doesn’t believe that, and won’t…not tonight…but it was a place to start. “Say it Clark.”

Clark shakes his head in response. Oliver’s hand settles over the black leather paddle, warming it by rubbing it over his hand. “Lana doesn’t deserve you.” Oliver swings the paddle, connecting it on Clark’s left ass cheek. Clark clearly isn’t expecting it, jumping. His head slumps forward again. “She never knew you Clark. She never saw you.” He swings again, connecting with his right ass cheek.

In contrast, Oliver’s touch on the side of Clark’s face is gentle. “She never saw what I see.”

He raises the plug and presses it against the lubed up hole. “She never got to see you come apart the way I will.” He presses it, feels Clark tense around it. He twists it, turns it, until it settles into place. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

Oliver flicks the plug on low, watching as Clark tenses, then relaxes, a moan escaping his lips. Oliver reaches for the box now, opens it and watches Clark react to the combined stimulus. He lifts the small stone, ghosting it over Clark’s sweat-slicked back. Clark moans again…and again…his arms shake.

“Please…”

Oliver pauses, hand hovering over his back. “Please?”

Clark is biting his lip now, his back arched. “Please what, Clark?”

“I don’t know.”

Oliver flicks the switch on the plug up a notch. “Is that better?”

But Clark is approaching the point of incoherence, Oliver can see it in the way his head tosses. It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. With the Kryptonite held between two fingers, Oliver continues caressing Clark’s back, and in his other hand, picks up the paddle again.

The entire scene had Oliver close to coming in his own pants…but first Clark had to come…had to fall apart so that Oliver could pick up the pieces. One whack to Clark’s ass. Clark yells out, pulling on the cuffs. One more whack. “I—oh—I’m gonna…” Clark convulses, his legs spreading further apart involuntarily and the smell of come fills the air. Oliver settles the stone back into it’s box and closes it, abandoning the paddle as well, to stroke long fingers gently over Clark’s skin.

“Good boy Clark…you did good…very good….Shh…”

Clark’s shoulders shake and it takes a moment for Oliver to realize he’s sobbing silently…He eases open his zipper, letting his aching cock out as he moves behind Clark, never letting his one hand leave Clark’s body. “Shh…easy, Clark…” He pulls the plug out and it seems to renew the shaking. Oliver takes a second to apply lube to his cock, then he’s up on his knees, lining up. “I’m here, Clark…right here.” He slides his hands up Clark’s arms and lifts the cuffs off the hook, easing his arms down and pulling Clark to him.

Clark stiffens a little as he feels the start of penetration, Oliver’s cock bigger than the plug, but Oliver settles his arms around Clark and sooths him with whispered encouragement and light kisses on his neck, and slowly Clark is sinking onto him…slowly…until Clark groans, and Oliver is buried deep inside him. “Easy…we’ve got all night…” Oliver whispers, flexing his hips so that his cock makes contact with Clark’s prostate.

The shuddering sobs have subsided and Oliver can’t resist biting on the boy’s shoulder. “Go on…Clark…move…slow and easy…” He moves a little to encourage Clark to rise up, and he does…almost torturously slowly…then sinks again. “That’s it…fuck yourself…” Oliver’s hand slides down the naked body to cup the half-hard, overly sensitive cock and Clark hisses. “Imagine if she could Clark…if she could see you like this…inhibitions gone, guard down…dirty…could she handle this Clark?”

His rhythm stutters and Oliver pulls a little on his cock…”Tell me Clark…what are you thinking while you fuck yourself on me?”

Clark’s thighs were trembling with the effort. “More…” He shakes his head. “Thinking about…more…hot…fuck…want this…”

Clark’s cock is full and hard again, lying on Oliver’s palm. It’s enough to push Oliver that much closer to coming himself. “I’m going to fuck you now, Clark…hard and deep. I’m going to come inside you…mark that place as my own…your first…Not Lex…Not Lana…me.”

He presses Clark forward, until his face is on the pillow, then he leverages himself up, grabbing Clark’s thin hips and snapping his hips in, up…and out again. Clark whimpers as he banged his prostate, his cuffed hands fisting in the pillow. It wasn’t going to last. Oliver got a good five strokes in before he was yelling out and coming, pulling hard on Clark to make him come again too.

It takes some time to come down, but Oliver gets his breath and clears the bed of paraphernalia, strips down and gets the keys for the cuffs. Clark hasn’t opened his eyes, but isn’t sleeping, his breathing still rapid and his cheeks wet. Oliver eases the cuffs off, rubs his hands over the chaffed wrists before putting them in their lead lined case and putting it away.

He slides into bed and pulls Clark close. “You okay?”

Clark nods and Oliver slips the blindfold off, tossing it aside. “Stay a while?” Clark nods again, and Oliver kisses over his shoulder.

It is quiet for a time, Clarks breathing evens out and he settles deeper into Oliver’s arms. “Oliver?”

The voice pulls him up from near sleep. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Clark rolls over so that he’s looking into Oliver with those too blue, too sincere eyes.

Oliver blinks, nods, kisses the end of his nose. “Anytime, Clark.”


End file.
